


One Day

by Suryaofvulcan



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-03
Updated: 2006-06-03
Packaged: 2018-08-16 07:02:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8092312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suryaofvulcan/pseuds/Suryaofvulcan
Summary: "There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness." Friedrich Nietzsche. Preseries. (06/02/2006)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Trip's POV.  


* * *

"So, what's he like?" We're in the mess at the Warp Five Complex, talkin' about Enterprise's newly appointed armoury officer. Now that the weapons systems are about to be installed, we need an expert. I'm no slouch, but these are specialised systems, and, according to Jon, our Lieutenant Reed developed at least half of 'em.

"He's very...British." Jon makes a face.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"He's very...military," Jon tries again. "Stood at attention the entire time I was interviewing him. 'Yes, sir'; 'no, sir'." He mimics an upper-class English accent.

"So why'd you hire him?" I'm surprised. Jon's as much of a people person as I am.

"Because he's the best," Jon shrugs, then leans forward across the table towards me. "But I want you to see if you can get him to loosen up a little. Take him out for a warm beer or something."

"Huh? Why me?"

"'Cause you're the one who'll be working closely with him on these weapons systems. It'll make your job a hell of a lot easier if you can get to know the guy."

"Why do I get all the fun jobs?" I ask, ironically.

"Ssh!" Jon says, looking over my shoulder. "He just walked in."

We both rise out of our chairs as the newcomer approaches.

"Lieutenant, this is Enterprise's chief engineer, Commander Charles Tucker the Third. Trip, I'd like you to meet--"

James. The man who's haunted my thoughts and dreams for the last four years. My stomach does a back-flip.

But the name dies on my lips as Jon continues, "--Lieutenant Malcolm Reed."

Our eyes meet, and just for a moment, before his impassive professional mask slips into place, I see a flash of recognition in his eyes. He knows me, just as I remember him. God, how could I ever forget?

Immediately my mind returns to a crowded nightclub, more than four years ago: the night I traded one hopeless obsession for another. The night I met and made love to James.

* * *

I barely noticed him when he took the empty seat beside me at the bar: the seat I'd been saving for Jon. In fact, I'd been saving a helluva lot more than that for Jon for most of the previous three years, idiot that I am, and that night I'd finally decided to throw caution to the wind and tell him how I felt.

Jon. Commander Jonathan Archer, as he was then. The unrequited love of my life. Never mind that he was straight as they come and had never even noticed that I hadn't gotten laid in the three years we'd known each other. Guess I'd perfected the 'Southern gentleman' routine a little too much. Always seeming to get the girl, but never actually doing anything with her.

I'd asked him to meet me at a nightclub close to my apartment in downtown San Fran in the hope that somehow, in the anonymous, sexually charged atmosphere, far away from the testosterone-filled 602 Club and the other 'fleeters, he might be receptive to the idea that I could be more than just a buddy who could help him perfect his Daddy's engine.

But Jon wasn't coming. Duval had somehow managed to lose control of the NX-Delta, barely ejecting in time, and he and the other pilots were having a late night post-mortem with Commodore Forrest. He'd asked for a rain check, but I knew what that meant. I'd had to work to prise him away from the comfort zone of the 602 tonight. I doubted I could do it again.

It was probably for the best: fate intervening to preserve our friendship. He'd probably have run for the hills at the thought of...

"You waitin' for somebody?" A voice beside me interrupted my thoughts, except he didn't say it like that. The accent was different. British.

I looked at him for the first time, taking in the sharply angled features and surprisingly soft-looking pink lips; the gorgeous blue- grey eyes gazing back at me from under ridiculously long dark lashes; hair the colour of rich black coffee, one unruly lock falling forward onto his forehead; and the lean, hard body clearly visible under the clinging black t-shirt and tight jeans. He looked like he wanted to score tonight.

"I was, but he just called to say he can't make it." And somehow, looking at the undeniably gorgeous man in front of me, that wasn't so important any more.

We introduced ourselves and made some small talk, but our real communication wasn't verbal. He preened, leaning back against the bar and laying himself out like so much meat on a slab, the offer unmistakable. And I watched, fascinated and attracted. Lord, was I ever hungry.

Why not, I thought to myself. Why not take what he's offering, and in return give him what he so obviously wants? Why the hell shouldn't we find some comfort and pleasure together? It's not like I was truly being unfaithful: I knew Jon was never gonna be mine, not in the way I wanted. I'm not usually one for one night stands--I like the slow dance of gettin' to know someone, really learnin' what makes them tick--but if James wanted me that night, I discovered I was willing to make an exception.

"D'you wanna dance?" I asked. And the next thing I knew we were on the dance floor, mouths and bodies pressed together, all heat and passion. God, but he felt good in my arms. His hands roamed over me while his tongue got busy in my mouth, and I lost myself in the taste of him. I couldn't get enough. Somehow we ended up in a booth at the side of the dance floor, James straddling my lap as we stroked each other off right there in front of everyone. We were just lucky everyone else was too busy to notice us.

I couldn't believe I'd done something so reckless, and I quickly cleaned us up, but as I looked up into his eyes I suddenly caught a glimpse of resignation and disappointment, of vulnerability hiding behind that confident, sexy faÃ§ade, and I knew I didn't want this to end here.

He made to move off me, but I held him in place. I leaned in and whispered: "My apartment is just 'round the corner."

Somehow we made it there with our clothes still on, but it was a close-run thing. And then we were naked on my bed, skin sliding against skin, melting into each other as we made love. I could see him desperately trying to hold back as I buried myself over and over in his tight heat, and again I marvelled at the vulnerability that shone from his eyes along with the naked need. And then, at my urging, he let go, yelling my name as he came.

I could feel him trembling as he wrapped his arms and legs around me afterwards, his chest heaving as he gasped for breath. I felt his fingers in my hair as he pulled me into a tender kiss, and I couldn't believe how right it felt to be lying there in that hot, sweaty embrace. Eventually I went to clean up, but as I came out of the bathroom I found him about to get dressed and go, and I was completely unprepared for the way my chest constricted at the thought. All I knew was, I didn't want him to leave.

"Don't go, James," I pleaded as I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him back into my bed.

A long time later I lay watching him as he slept in my arms, enjoying having his warmth beside me and the sound of his soft, contented snores. Something incredible and unexpected had happened to me, and I wasn't quite sure what to make of it. In those few short hours, had this beautiful, sexy man somehow captured my heart? As I pondered, I buried my nose in his hair, and I fell asleep breathing his wonderful scent.

I woke the next morning to find him leaning over me, already dressed and ready to leave, and I felt a sadness beyond words as I realised that this really was goodbye.

"Am I ever gonna see you again?" I heard myself asking, although I already knew the answer.

He leaned down and gave me the sweetest, most tender kiss I've ever known. I could swear I saw tears in his eyes as he drew back and whispered: "You never know."

And with those three words he left me, with only the smallest grain of hope that one day, we would meet again; that one day, he would be mine.

* * *

I'd wondered if he would show up, after Jon practically coerced us into meeting up for a drink, but I guess the very proper lieutenant won't disobey an order; even one as unorthodox as that.

He's standing at the window, looking up at the stars, when I enter the mess later that evening, and I take a moment just to watch him; to admire how breathtakingly beautiful he is, just standing there in his civvies--black jeans and a plain, blood-red shirt--leaning casually against the window ledge.

Is it possible to fall in love in one night? I never thought so before--at least, not in the kind of night we had. Maybe if we'd spent that night talking and getting to know each other instead of fucking each other's brains out, I'd have believed it. But somehow during that wonderful night of few words and reckless actions, we made a connection that stayed with me all through those four years.

In the intervening time there were a few drunken trysts and even a couple of short-lived relationships, but I never found that magic, that vital spark, with anyone else. I was looking for another James, but I never found him.

He glances up and sees my reflection in the window as I approach. He doesn't turn, but our eyes meet; his intense steel-grey gaze boring into my heart.

"Waitin' for somebody?" I say as I reach him, echoing his line from that night.

He turns to me, and there's my James: beautiful and sexy, yet somehow inexplicably vulnerable.

"Commander." He eyes me warily.

"We're off duty and out of uniform, Lieutenant," I sigh, stressing his rank. "I think we can drop the ranks for this evening."

"As you wish, sir."

I roll my eyes. "Besides, I was a lieutenant, just like you, until a month ago." He glances at me sharply, and I think I see frustration and regret in those gorgeous grey eyes. "James--Malcolm--we need to talk."

He nods slowly and gives me a wry smile. "With hindsight, it's probably a conversation we should have had four years ago." He gets more serious as he glances around the mess, which is starting to get busy. "But we shouldn't have it here."

I nod my agreement, then I smile. "My quarters are just 'round the corner."

It's his turn to roll his eyes, and I guess that means he remembers that night as well as I do: every word and every touch. God, I hope he feels the way I do too.

* * *

"I looked for ya, y'know," I say, handing him a beer and takin' a seat opposite where he's sprawled on the couch. "I must've gone back to that club a hundred times, hopin' I'd see you again."

He leans back and looks at me frankly. "I never went there again," he says quietly.

"Was I that bad?" I joke, hoping that wasn't the reason. I'm surprised how insecure I sound.

"No," he sighs. "No, you were...quite lovely, actually." He smiles wistfully at me, and I feel myself blush as my heart skips a beat. "I just...didn't want any complications in my life. I'd just been promoted, and I wanted Enterprise so much..." He throws his head back and lets out a groan of sheer frustration. "God, if I'd known you were in Starfleet too..."

"You never asked," I remind him, trying not to sound too reproachful.

He stares at me pointedly. "As I recall, neither of us did much talking that night."

"True." I smile ruefully. "But I've never stopped thinkin' 'bout ya."

"Commander." His voice carries a note of warning. "You're my superior, and we'll be working closely together--even more so once we get into space."

"The way I see it, we have a pre-existing relationship," I countered. "One that began when we were the same rank and on different assignments."

"Tenuous," he says, but there's a sparkle in those gorgeous eyes.

"Starfleet'll buy it, and Jonny--the cap'n--won't care."

"Trip, this is insane," he groans again, obviously having an internal battle with his own better judgement.

"They say there's always some madness in love. But then, there's always some reason in madness."

"Love?" He eyes me quizzically. "This isn't love, Trip."

I move to sit beside him on the couch, and he turns to me as I boldly put my hand on his knee. "Not yet. But it could be, Malcolm, if we give it a chance. It so easily could be." I smile, and let my fingers draw patterns on his thigh. "Just give me one kiss, and then tell me you don't want me."

"What is it with you and kissing anyway?" he grumbles, but I can tell it's a token protest at best.

"I'm real good at it," I murmur as I lean forward to claim his lips.

I brush my fingers across his cheek and up into his hair as our lips meet. I only intend to give him a slow, gentle caress, but as soon as we touch he gives a soft, throaty grunt and starts to push back against me, his tongue seeking and then gently parting my lips, probing inside. He tastes exactly like I remember: spicy and musky and slightly metallic, and I respond eagerly, my tongue meeting his in a sensual duel. It's glorious. I've waited four long years, and I savour every moment as I pull him into my arms and deepen the kiss.

"Well?" I growl, nipping at his lips, when we eventually come up for air.

"Mmm...not sure," he smirks. "Maybe we should try it again..."

There's a predatory gleam in his eye as he pushes me back so that I'm reclining on the couch, and I barely have time to register that I like this unexpectedly playful side of him, before he lands on top of me and claims my mouth again. Somehow he's managed to open both our shirts, and I delight in the feel of his skin against mine as I wrap my arms around his slim, athletic frame and kiss him back with all my heart and soul.

"How 'bout now?" I pull back just far enough to whisper, breathlessly, against his lips.

"Still not entirely convinced." He eyes me speculatively. "Perhaps if we were naked...and in your bed..."

I chuckle. "You shameless hussy."

He raises one eyebrow. "Isn't that the entire basis for this relationship?"

"Not any more, Malcolm," I assure him. "Not any more." We adjourn to my bed, stripping off clothes as we go, and as I touch him I remember how soft and smooth his skin feels under my hands, how pale it is against his chocolate-dark hair, how warm and alive he feels in my arms. I lie back and pull him down on top of me, and a jolt of pleasure runs through me as our erections touch. I kiss and lick and suck at his delicious neck, and run my hands down that wonderfully sinuous back until I can cup his firm, round cheeks in my hands. They fit perfectly.

"Make love to me, Malcolm," I whisper. I can hear my own voice thickening with desire.

He does, and it's as beautiful as I imagined.

* * *

He lies in my arms, a dead weight on top of me, breathing in my ear, as we bathe in the afterglow of our lovemaking. Nothing ever felt so right. I know now that I want Malcolm in my arms, and in my bed, for ever.

Malcolm. It's funny how easily my brain was able to grasp his change of identity; as if James was always a fantasy, and Malcolm is the reality I've been longing for all these years.

He stirs and raises his head, a kinda goofy smile curving his lips. Then he leans down and kisses me tenderly, and my chest constricts as I remember the last time he did that.

"Please don't leave me this time, Malcolm," I beg as he draws back.

He smiles and kisses me gently. "I won't."


End file.
